


Kamino Interludes

by Mengde



Series: Sith Apprentice: Darth Venge [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Gen, Sith Obi-Wan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-06
Updated: 2016-07-09
Packaged: 2018-07-21 20:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7403434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mengde/pseuds/Mengde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Jedi Order has declared independence from the Republic.  The clones have volunteered to follow them.  Now everyone waits with bated breath to see how the Sith in charge of both the Republic and the CIS will react.  Everything teeters on the precipice of war - but it is not here yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Interludes: I, II

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Re-Entry Official Timeline](https://archiveofourown.org/works/913029) by [flamethrower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamethrower/pseuds/flamethrower). 



> This is less of a "story" and more of "things that happen before the next chapter of the Venge series," and won't be very long. But I think there's still stuff people will be interested in.
> 
> As always, all credit for Venge's origin goes to flamethrower and her Re-Entry series!

Maul finished another training sequence, slashing ruthlessly through holographic enemies.  He had to admit that the Kaminoan facilities were even better than the ones in the Jedi Temple.

The Temple, which was now denied him.  Denied _all_ Jedi.  The rest of the Order had finished withdrawing from the structure this morning, amid the continuing hullabaloo surrounding Yoda’s declaration of Jedi independence five days ago.  The first wave of Jedi had already arrived in Tipoca City, where Yoda had negotiated long-term residency with the Kaminoans.

It was now a waiting game, Maul thought.  The Sith could not ignore the threat of an unfettered Order with millions of clone soldiers.  More than ninety-nine percent of the clones had volunteered to fight, enthused by the Jedi promise of pay, equal rights, pensions, the freedom to resign and go their own way – everything that cloned beings were traditionally denied.  Those who had declined to fight, Yoda had given credits and transport offworld, with his blessing.

 _The CIS will declare war soon.  It is inevitable._ Maul moved to the control panel on the wall of the otherwise-empty, gleaming silver room.  He told it to simulate a droideka attack.

Six of the deadly machines blossomed into existence, firing simulated blue bolts.  Maul’s saberstaff blurred into frenzied motion, turning back the hail of projectiles.  He focused every deflection on a single destroyer; its shields failed within fifteen seconds.  One more bolt, delivered to its processor, winked it out of existence.

He felt Yoda’s approach long before the Grandmaster actually entered the training room.  As soon as Yoda stepped over the threshold, Maul called out for the simulation to end.

Turning to Yoda, he bowed.  “Master.”  As he straightened, he saw with a start that the Grandmaster was not alone.  A short, slight Togruta female with huge blue eyes stood behind Yoda, her presence in the Force almost completely obscured by his.

“Jedi Maul.”  Yoda gestured the girl forward.  “To introduce this young woman, allow me.  Ahsoka Tano, this is.  Your Padawan, she shall be.”

Maul could not disguise his shock.  Ahsoka was staring at him, eyes taking in his markings, his saberstaff.  She bowed.  “Master Maul.”

“I have not requested a Padawan,” Maul said before he could think of a better way to phrase it.

Hurt blossomed in the girl’s eyes.  She looked at her feet, expression downcast.  Yoda spoke, sounding severe.  “To war, the Order goes, Maul.  Training, many promising younglings require.  Do your part, you will.   _Jedi Cop,_ this is not – ‘work alone,’ you do not.”

Maul felt his cheeks burn, quietly thanking the Force that his markings made it impossible to see.  “Yes, Master.  What about Anakin?”

“Siri Tachi’s apprentice will he be until his Trials.”  Yoda motioned Ahsoka forward again with his gimer stick.  “Get to know one another, you should.  On your efforts, much will depend.”

He turned and left the training room, muttering and cackling to himself.

Maul looked Ahsoka up and down.  She was both small and looked to be made entirely of skin and bone.  If she was to be his Padawan, they had a lot of work to do.

“Padawan,” he said after a minute.  “Ready stance.  We will spar now.”

Ahsoka looked worried.  “Should we go get training lightsabers?  I don’t know if we have any yet.  Do you want me to go ask Master Yoda?  He can’t have gone far, he’s –”

Maul ignited his saberstaff, only bringing one of its blades forth.  Ahsoka yelped and drew her own weapon, an emerald-green blade which she held in a bizarre reverse grip.

“I am not going to hurt you,” Maul said.  “Yoda has asked me to teach you, and I will.  What is the source of the fear I sense?”

He saw and felt the conflict in her as she debated how to answer the question.  Finally, she said, “You have a – reputation, Master.  People say you’re dangerous, even for a Jedi.  And they say that Master Windu’s taught you Vaapad, that you use the Dark Side.”  She shrugged.  “You’re just really intimidating.”

Maul relaxed his pose, but did not deactivate his lightsaber.  “Do you sense the Dark Side in me?”

Taking his question as permission to scan him, Ahsoka closed her eyes.  He felt her mental touch, trying to get a reading though the walls he maintained without any conscious effort.  With a thought, he dropped them, letting her see the core of his being.

She gasped and her eyes snapped open.

“What did you see?” Maul asked.

Ahsoka’s gaze flicked around the room rapidly, as though looking for hidden traps or foes.  Finally, she said, “I saw a dark – _thing._   Closed in a cage of light.”

“Does that address the rumors you have heard about me?”

Hesitantly, she nodded.  “Yes.  I can feel your control.”

“Will you learn from me?”

Now she smiled.  “Yes.”

“Good.”  Maul gave her a slow, approving nod.  She had spirit, he thought.  She also had potential.  He would have to be careful not to hurt the former while trying to help her reach the latter.  “Now, since you wish to learn from me, the first lesson I will teach you is a better ready stance.  Your grip is inefficient.”

Ahsoka made a face.  “Master Shokra said it’s unorthodox.  That it can confuse opponents.”

“Very well.  Strike me.”

She frowned, but did as instructed.  She began to bring her arm around in the wide, sweeping strike a reverse grip necessitated.  Before she was even halfway through the move, Maul had closed the five paces between them and had his blade tip half an inch from her chest.

That made her start.  “Hey!  How –”

“Again.  Strike.”

She tried again.  This time he held the blade to the side of her throat in one fluid motion.

“Again.”

“Master –”

Maul looked at her, widening his eyes.  “ _Again._ ”

With a frustrated sound, she tried again.  Now he gave her a light tap on her sword-shoulder with his off-hand before her saber could even clear her back.  She retreated a pace, looking outraged.

“Now,” Maul said, his tone what he hoped sounded calm and candid.  “Form One ready stance.”

Ahsoka made another face.  “Shii-Cho?  Master –”

“I know you are not a youngling.  But if I am to be your Master, and you are to learn from me, as you have claimed you will, you must be willing to entertain the notion that I know what I am doing.”  He gave her his best, most reasonable smile.  “Fair?”

She was still frowning, but she nodded.  “Yes, Master.  That’s fair.”

“Good. Then – Form One ready stance.”

Ahsoka assumed the simple pose, lightsaber held two-handed in a near-horizontal position just below her abdomen.

“Good,” Maul told her.  He took a relaxed form, saber held loosely at his side.  “Strike.”

Ahsoka attacked, and he had to snap his saber up to deflect the blow.

“You see?” he asked.  “You have excellent speed when your form isn’t holding you back.”

The little Togruta beamed at him for a moment before confusion clouded her eyes.  “How could Master Shokra be so wrong?”

“Master Shokra is not wrong.  He is correct that an unorthodox grip can distract and confuse an opponent.  He is also correct that using such a grip would naturally cause you to focus on your speed, to compensate for its inefficiency.”  Maul deactivated his saber and crossed his arms.  “But he is also concerned with what will be aesthetically pleasing during a kata, and emphasizing diversity of form to avoid all his students fighting the same way.  It is easier for them to learn from one another if they fight differently.

“ _I_ do not care about aesthetics, diversification, or purity of style, however.  I care about survival.  If you are willing, that is what I will teach you.  I will show you how to survive any foe, any environment, any hardship.  I will help you become the Jedi you _should_ be, the one who stands and fights where others would fall.

“So, I will ask you again: are you willing?”

Ahsoka nodded eagerly.  “I am, Master!”

Maul returned her nod, approving.  “Now,” he said, reactivating his saber.  “Show me what you have learned.”

* * *

Venge walked the corridors of Tipoca City, memorizing the layout of the vast structure.  If this white hellscape was to be his home, he would know every inch of it.  It was that simple.  There was no room for discomfort, no matter how much he loathed this place on a gut level.

He turned a corner, passed one of the thousands of irising doors.  It partially opened before it detected he wasn’t entering and began to reverse its movement.  What he glimpsed past it in his peripheral vision made him stop, turn, and wave the door open fully.

The room beyond was blissfully, wonderfully _dark._   No oversaturated white glared out from within its cool walls.  Scattered around the space, seemingly at random, were holographic representations of various pieces of artwork.  In the center of the room, in a large, swiveling chair, sat the sole occupant.

He opened glowing red eyes as Venge approached.

“Justicar Venge,” he said in a smooth, modulated voice.  “A pleasure to meet you face-to-face.”

Venge took in the blue skin, the blue-black hair, the vaguely military cut of the man’s black trousers and tunic.  “Commander Mitth’raw’nuruodo, I assume,” he said.  “I thought you would be still serving the Chiss Ascendancy.”

The alien’s thin blue lips flexed into a small smile.  “My core name will suffice,” he said.  “Though your pronunciation is quite good; my compliments.  And as of yesterday afternoon, my rank is Lord Admiral, and I am in the service of the Jedi Order.”

Venge blinked stupidly.  As far as he’d known, Sidious had been making a years-long bid for this man’s service ever since the Outbound Flight massacre.  He would not have expected the Chiss to be interested in helping the Jedi, nor the Jedi to even know he existed.

“Lord Admiral Thrawn,” he said.  “My apologies.  Why are you here?”

“Accepted,” Thrawn said lazily.  “Five days ago, Grandmaster Yoda announced Jedi independence.  The Ruling Houses of the Ascendancy learned of this from their spies, and decreed that I would go to him.  In exchange for my services, I was to ask for military aid should it ever become necessary for the Ascendancy to seek allies.”

“Clearly Yoda accepted your offer,” Venge murmured.

Nodding, Thrawn leaned forward slightly in his chair.  “He appointed me Supreme Commander of all Jedi forces, both army and navy.  I requested the rank of Lord Admiral rather than Supreme Commander, to emphasize Grandmaster Yoda’s superior position within the command hierarchy.”

Venge began to stroll around the room, inspecting the artworks.  They were mostly marble busts of unfamiliar humans, but at least three paintings of abstract scenes were also on display.  “To put it bluntly, Lord Admiral, did Yoda make you swear loyalty in front of our resident Truthsayer?  Because otherwise I’d like us to go for a brief stroll.”

That prompted a gentle snort from Thrawn.  “Come, Justicar.  The Grandmaster is no fool.  I met your charming Zabrak companion yesterday, when I arrived.  He called it out when I lied about a lack of distaste for rain, and otherwise found me quite honest.”

“ _Do_ you dislike rain?” Venge asked.

“The ozone scent common to most terrestrial rainfall reminds me of Chiss weaponry,” Thrawn replied smoothly.  “It is an unpleasant association.”

“Then you’re on the wrong planet.”  Venge stopped in front of one of the busts and studied it, trying to place the face.

“This is all artwork from Count Dooku’s private collection on Serenno,” Thrawn answered his silent question.  “Mostly representations of previous members of the royal line, but those paintings are ones he purchased recently and at great cost.  Original Matherzinai pieces.  Curious that a man so dedicated to the imposition of order upon the galaxy prefers such abstract work.”

“Why are you here, and not treating with Palpatine?” Venge asked, turning back to face Thrawn.  “You have a previously existing relationship with him.  With his clone army gone and the Military Creation Act passed, he’s doubtless scrambling to get a force, _any_ force, together.  He could use someone like you at the helm.”

Thrawn cocked a blue-black eyebrow.  “A good question.  After all, since you are one of his former associates, you know that he impressed upon me that the Jedi are a threat to the stability of the galaxy, and that I destroyed Outbound Flight on his recommendation.  But after Grandmaster Yoda made me aware of certain information about him, I decided that it might benefit me to gain a more nuanced view of the Jedi and their capabilities.”

“To determine if you _will_ destroy them?”

“Yes.  And to determine if it is even possible.”

“Yoda doesn’t mind you analyzing him for weaknesses while you’re sending his Jedi off to fight and die?”

“I told him my intent.  He was unperturbed.”  Thrawn gave a minimal shrug.  “I do intend to do my duty to the absolute best of my ability.  If I do decide the Jedi must be destroyed, I will not do it from within.  I will fulfill the oath I made and resign from this service first.”

“And what about the Sith?  You know that part of your duty is going to be fighting them.  What if you end up helping to destroy the only other faction in the galaxy with any known success against the Jedi?”

Thrawn’s eyes glittered coldly.  “Justicar Venge,” he said.  “If I do decide to destroy the Jedi, I assure you: I will not need the Sith to do it.”

He closed his eyes, and Venge knew the conversation was over – for now, at any rate.

But he would keep a close eye on Thrawn.


	2. Interludes: III, IV, V

It was a rare clear day on Kamino.  Dormé sat atop a cargo crate, watching Anakin and Siri duel one another on an empty landing pad.  Both of them had spent two days in bacta and were now recovered.

Anakin drove Siri back with a series of vicious power attacks, then spun into a kick which connected solidly with her gut and sent her reeling.  Even from five meters, Dormé could hear the whoosh of air forcibly leaving Siri’s lungs.

“Sorry, Siri!” Anakin said.  “Ah – er.  Sorry, _Master_.”

Siri held up a hand, deactivating her lightsaber.  “Just Siri, Anakin.  This Padawan thing won’t be for very long.  Master Yoda is going to knight you any day now.”

“Okay.  Siri.  Sorry.” 

“And stop apologizing.  The only thing that’s different is that you _are_ technically obliged to obey every single one of my commands, up to and including ritual suicide.”  Siri waggled her lightsaber at him.  “So don’t push me.”

Anakin snorted.  “Got it.”

“Alright.  Take five, while I attempt to catch my breath after that kriffing _kick_ of yours.”

Deactivating his own lightsaber, Anakin jogged over to plop himself down on the crate next to Dormé.  “I’m sorry,” he said, smiling at her.  “You’re probably bored.”

She shook her head.  “Watching Jedi fight is interesting.  It’s fine.”

He pursed his lips.  “Okay.  But – I guess it’s not just that.  All you probably wanted was something simple, and fun, and now look where we are.”  Anakin gestured broadly at their surroundings.  “I feel like I dragged you into this.”

Dormé laid a comforting hand on his shoulder, pulling him in to lean against her.  “Anakin, I would have followed Padmé.  At least this way, I get to have a cute boyfriend too.”

“You can’t try to assume responsibility for the actions of others, Anakin,” Siri said.  “We are all beings with free will and agency.  What you do may affect the choices we choose to make, but it does not make you responsible for them.  The line to draw is _forcing_ others to make the choices you want them to make, or manipulating them to get your preferred outcome.  You didn’t force or manipulate Dormé into doing anything.”

“I thought you were trying to catch your breath, _Master,_ ” Anakin told her.

She jabbed her lightsaber at him.  “I’m giving you advice, _Padawan._   Advice I fear may be wasted on your thick skull.  Were you always this difficult with Qui-Gon?”

The second the name passed her lips, Siri paled.  Dormé felt Anakin stiffen and watched his expression fall.  She wrapped an arm around him, took his hand in her own.

“He’s not dead,” Anakin said after a moment.  “He didn’t even Fall, not really.  Whatever Plagueis did, we can reverse.”  He looked at Dormé, then Siri, determination burning in his eyes.  “So it’s okay.  We can stop feather-stepping around his name.”

Dormé nodded.  This was progress for him.  At first, when he’d come out of the bacta tank, he’d refused to talk about Qui-Gon, and had left the room if someone insisted on a conversation about the brainwashed Jedi Master.  In the last few days, he’d clearly processed his emotions and come to a decision about how to handle the situation.

“That sounds good,” Siri said.  “I’m glad that’s the plan.”

Anakin made an affirmative noise.  “Me too.  Even if I _am_ the one who came up with it.”

Unsure if she had anything to contribute to the conversation, Dormé said nothing, merely giving Anakin a kiss on the cheek instead.  He turned to her for a proper kiss, which she gave him gladly.

“Ugh,” Siri said.  “You two are disgusting.  Truly nauseating.”

Dormé, too busy enjoying the kiss to open her eyes, felt rather than saw Anakin raise an arm at Siri to give her what she assumed was an extremely rude gesture.

They broke off the kiss after another few moments.  “Back to training,” Anakin said, sounding apologetic.  “Gotta get better if we’re going to beat Vader.”

The thought of Anakin’s clone made her shudder.  He’d glowered at her as she’d left the throne room on Geonosis.  She could feel the hate and arrogance in him, so unlike _her_ Anakin.  It was difficult for her to imagine what it must be like for him.

“Of course,” Dormé told him with a smile.  “I’ll continue to enjoy watching you show off for me.”

He grinned, springing back to his feet.  Dormé watched the two Jedi begin another bout, admiring the powerful, confident way Anakin fought.  It was early yet to think about love, but Dormé could say with certainty she was discovering new dimensions to her bedroom preferences.  Apparently she liked men who could fight with the kind of ferocity Anakin displayed.

Without warning, both Jedi stopped the duel, turned, and bowed to someone coming toward the landing pad.  Dormé glanced over to see Yoda, making his way one small step at a time toward them.  “Continue your training, young Jedi,” the diminutive Grandmaster said with a wave of his hand.  “Taking the air, I am.”

“Yes, Master,” Siri said.  As they resumed the fight, Yoda hopped up onto the crate next to Dormé, settling himself into a cross-legged position.

“Sit here, may I?” he asked.

“You appear to have made the decision for me,” Dormé said lightly, not actually bothered by his presumption.

“Mmm.  So I have.  But asked had I before sitting, yes, you would have said?”

“Certainly.”

“Mmm.”  Yoda watched Anakin and Siri for a minute, silent.  “Dangerous,” he finally said, “attachment is, for a Jedi.”

Preparing herself for a difficult conversation, Dormé said, “So I’ve heard.”

“Attached to many people, young Skywalker is,” Yoda continued.  “To Qui-Gon.  To Maul.  To his mother.  To you.”

“Are you here to tell me I can no longer see him?” Dormé asked, deciding to cut straight to the heart of the matter.

Yoda made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a grunt.  “Respect such a request, would you, if I made it?”

“Certainly not.”

He nodded.  “Then make it, I shall not.”

Dormé took a deep breath.  “Then why are you here?  You’re not just taking the air.”

“Too old, Anakin was when his Jedi training he began,” Yoda replied.  “Attachments, he will always have.  Learn to use them, he must.  A strength must they be.”  He lightly touched her arm.  “Help him, you can.  Ensure that healthy, his attachment to you remains.”

Dormé nodded.  “I will, Master Yoda.  I will take care of him.”

“Thank you.”  Yoda hopped back down and began making his way back inside.  He paused.  “Marry him, you should not.  Coming, war is.  No guarantees for any of us are there.  Not even the Chosen One.”

Then he kept walking.

Dormé watched him go, wondering if he was speaking out of simple pragmatic caution, or if he had seen something in the Force.  Either way, it didn’t matter.  Marriage was not something which concerned her at the moment.

At the moment, she just wanted to watch Anakin fight.  She would worry about everything else later.

* * *

Jango strode to the front of the small briefing room, doffing his _buy’ce_ as he did.  He wanted the men and women he’d called in here today to see his eyes when he gave this speech.

The seventy-five _Mando’ade_ members of the _Cuy’val Dar_ sat in the room, talking amongst themselves.  They fell silent as Jango, their _Manda’lor,_ took his place before them.

“ _Su’cuy, di’kute_ ,” he said.  _So you’re still alive, idiots._ A traditional greeting in a gathering like this.  They chorused _su’cuy_ back at him.  “I’ve got news, and it’s _shabla_ bad.  But you all need to hear it.

“Kal, Rav, Vau and I recently had a friendly chat with the _dar’jetii_ behind Galidraan.  You might know him as Justicar Venge, the Order’s latest scary _shabuir._  He told us, basically, that the Sith are still around, and they set Galidraan up to make me hate the _jetiise_ bad enough that I’d agree to do whatever it took to destroy them.”

There was a discontented ripple in the crowd, murmurs and quiet oaths.  Clearly, Kal had been spreading the word – neither Rav nor Vau were the type to reach out like that.

“As _Manda’lor,_ I’ve forgiven Venge his debt of _buy’ce tal_ ,” Jango went on.  “He was a brainwashed kid at the time.  But the rest of the Sith still owe us.  And now that the _jetiise_ have gone independent, we’ve got a special opportunity in front of us.

“I say we tell Yoda, we’ll fight for you and _only_ you.”  He weathered the expected storm of hisses, gasps, and more swearing.  “In exchange for three things.  _Solus,_ proper warrior’s pay for all of us.  _T’ad_ , an assurance that wherever we’re sent will be where we can hurt the Sith the most.

“And _ehn,_ a formal _jetii_ apology for the kriffing mess on Galidraan.”

Mij Gilamar rose to his feet and slammed his crushgaunt against his _beskar_ chestplate.  “ _Oya!_   I second that!”

“Third,” Vau said, not as demonstrative as Mij but still deadly serious.  “I propose we make it a Great Hunt.  A Great Hunt for the Sith.”

Now Dred Priest came to his feet, expression sour.  “Are you actually listening to this _osik,_ Vau?  Gilamar I’d expect this _dikut’la_ behavior from, but not you.  Fight for the _shabla jetiise?_   When we could be taking this opportunity to carve out some territory for ourselves?”

“Enough of that talk, Priest,” Jango snapped.  “The _only_ reason you’re _Cuy’val Dar_ is that I know you’ve got no actual ties to the Death Watch.  But I also know you’d shoot Vizsla in the back and take his place in a heartbeat, and that’s not what’s going to happen.  We’re not ‘carving’ anything.”

Priest turned a circle, arms outstretched, trying to summon up support.  “Are you all hearing this?  Jango’s gone soft!  He’d rather be a _jetii_ akk dog than lead us to glory!”

Jango bristled.  He looked Priest in the eye.  “Is that a challenge, Priest?  You contest my primacy as _Manda’lor_?”

“That’s right!” Priest bellowed.  “I challenge it!”

“Accepted,” Jango said, and shot him in the throat.

The sound of the blaster bolt was incredibly loud in the confined space; the stench of cooked human flesh permeated the air.  Priest had a split second of surprised disbelief before the shock rolled his eyes up in his head and knocked him unconscious.  He would be dead in a few minutes, and no one made a move to help him.

“Anyone else want to call me out?” Jango asked into the silence.

No one said a word.

He holstered his Westar pistol.  “Good.  No one is going to be compelled to join this Great Hunt.  But as _Manda’lor,_ I’m saying that this is our next calling.  This is where our guns will kill the most _aruetiise_.”  He thumped his own breastplate.  “Who’s ready to go to war?”

The rest of the _Mando’ade_ roared approval, even the doubters now brought over to his side by his quick and efficient handling of Dred Priest.

“What about the Pacifist Corps over in their shiny city on Mandalore?” Kal asked.  “Satine’s going to be _a’denla_ about this.”

“Satine Kryze can _k’atini,_ ” Jango growled.  “She doesn’t get to sit on her idealistic laurels _and_ command the clans.  She gives us grief, we tell her to _usen’ye._ ”

That produced another roar, even louder and fiercer than the first.  Jango didn’t bother hiding a grin.

The _Mando’ade_ were going to war.

* * *

Ambassador Amidala of the Jedi Order didn’t actually have any work to do yet.  The Order had made no formal diplomatic proposals to anyone except the Kaminoans, and those negotiations had been handled by Yoda, before she had arrived on-planet.

So she was doing what she could to help, and right now that was processing volunteers.

A truly staggering number of people had arrived in the last week, all wanting to help the Jedi Order.  Yoda had included the coordinates of Kamino in the independence announcement and asked for anyone willing to assist the Jedi in their new mission, and the results had been overwhelming. 

What was even more amazing to Padmé was that so far, none of them had been Separatist or Republic spies.  It was incredibly useful, having an admittedly bored Truthsayer sit in a room and ask every new recruit pointed questions about their loyalties while his Padawan tried her best to play Intimidating Cop behind him.  Padmé thought the little Togruta, Ahsoka, was adorable.  She would be good for Maul.

The man who had just walked into her temporary office – the living area of her quarters, rearranged to accommodate a desk and chairs – was human, in his mid-thirties, pale-skinned, with brown hair and what she would describe as a gentlemanly moustache.  He gave her a polite nod as he sat down.

“I’m Ambassador Padmé Amidala,” she said with a smile.  “Name and occupation?”

“A pleasure, Ambassador,” he replied in a crisp, Corellian-accented voice.  “My name is Gilad Pellaeon.  Former Captain in the Republic Navy, such as it was.”

Padmé raised an eyebrow.  “Really.  Did you resign your commission?”

Pellaeon nodded.  “I did.  I’d like to assist the Jedi Order in whatever capacity necessary, though you’ll obviously find most of my qualifications are in the areas of starship command.”

“In point of fact, we’re short of experienced naval officers at the moment,” Padmé said.  “Your arrival puts it up to eight.”

“Really,” Pellaeon murmured.  “Eight people to command a navy of, at the very least, thousands of vessels.”

“Exactly.  So you can understand why we’re very happy to have you here, Captain Pellaeon.  If I might ask – why did you leave the Republic Navy to join us?”

Pellaeon seemed to take a moment to consider the question, which was a good sign.  He didn’t have a boilerplate answer ready, pre-considered to sound as attractive as possible to a potential new employer.  Some of the other naval officers she’d spoken to had tried to feed her lines about _duty_ and _honor_ when it was quite clear all they wanted was better pay than they’d had in their previous positions.

Not that the Jedi Order was at a loss to provide that.

“I believe in the Republic,” Pellaeon said at last.  “I believe in the order it brings, the culture, the justice, the peace.  I believe in all the things the Republic stands for.  But I do _not_ believe that the vast majority of our elected officials have any of those things in mind.  I believe most of them are greedy charlatans out for whatever they can steal, and even if the Supreme Chancellors are indeed on the level – which I would believe about Palpatine, but not necessarily Damask – they are only two beings in a sea of thousands, esteemed positions or no.  I believe I can help the Republic more effectively from outside it.”  He smiled.  “And I believe the pay is better here, but that’s rather a low bar to set, so I haven’t really factored it into my calculations.”

Padmé took a breath to tell Pellaeon she liked what she was hearing, but the sound of an alarm cut her off.

“Are you ready to put your credits where your convictions are, Captain?” she asked, standing.

Pellaeon stood with her.  “Absolutely, Ambassador.”

“Then follow me.  That’s a battle alert.”

Padmé led him briskly down the white halls of Tipoca City to the command center, waving her ID at the clone guards who stood at the double doors.  “This is Captain Pellaeon,” she told them, gesturing at him.  “He’s with me.”

“Very good, ma’am,” one of them said.  “Grandmaster Yoda and Lord Admiral Thrawn are already inside.”  He triggered the door release, and they slid aside.

“Lord Admiral Thrawn?” Pellaeon asked as they entered the dimly-illuminated command center.

“The supreme commander of our military forces.  Right here.”  Padmé led Pellaeon to the central holoprojector, where Thrawn, Yoda, and Venge already stood, examining an image of Kamino and little specks of light winking into being above it.

“Ambassador,” Venge said, giving her the crooked grin he knew she liked.  “It’s starting.  Who’s your friend?”

Padmé gestured at Pellaeon.  “Grandmaster Yoda, Lord Admiral Thrawn, Justicar Venge, permit me to introduce Captain Gilad Pellaeon, formerly of the Republic Navy.”

Pellaeon clicked the heels of his boots together, stood at attention, and gave them a crisp salute.  “An honor, sirs.”

“A pleasure, Captain,” Thrawn said smoothly, his red eyes glittering in the dimness.  “You’ve arrived just in time.”

“For what, Admiral?” Pellaeon asked.

Yoda touched a control on the holoprojector, and the points of light above Kamino expanded to fill the entire view.  They were capital ships.  Dozens, _hundreds_ of them.  Padmé recognized Trade Federation Lucrehulk-class battleships from the siege of Naboo, but there were many more designs unfamiliar to her.

“War, Captain,” the old Jedi Grandmaster said.  “Begun, it has.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it for Kamino Interludes! Our next story, "The Battle of Kamino," will be up soon! Thanks for reading!


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